The peak of your career watches the old worn groove of your chart from the far rim of the sky. Your South Node, the familiar end of the lunar nodes, that calculated directional axis and never a body in the sky, faces the meridian, the visible heading your work points toward. By the same geometry the growth-bound North Node sits out ahead of you. The public place where you show up and what you already know by heart call each other to account across the axis, each pole naming what the other forgets. What you show everyone tugs toward the unfamiliar while the old knack reels it straight back. Some days the practiced gesture reclaims you whole. You learn not to let the familiar decide your heading on its own.